


Magic in a Coffee Cup

by Lenni51074



Series: Coffee Shop AU's [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee is life, F/M, Fluff, POV First Person, The Cloak of Levitation ships it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 16:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenni51074/pseuds/Lenni51074
Summary: Dr Strange becomes a frequent visitor to your coffee shop. You take great delight in writing his name incorrectly on his coffee order. He finds that you don’t really irritate him as much as most people do.





	Magic in a Coffee Cup

The most arrogant looking man I have ever seen stood at the counter, staring imperiously at the menu board for what felt like an eternity. He was dressed in some weird outfit, almost like a tunic underneath what appeared to be a wizard’s cape. He looked like he was heading to Comic-Con or possibly a Renaissance Faire, except that there was no nerd-fest scheduled in the area for the next few months as far as I was aware.

Finally, he ordered a large latte, extra shot, dash of cinnamon syrup. No please or thank you. He just stared at me, as if expecting me to conjure his drink out of thin air.

“Name?” I asked, Sharpie poised over the lid of the coffee cup.  
  
“Stephen.”

“Stephen with a ‘PH’?”  
  
“No, actually it’s Stephen with a PhD.”

What a condescending prick. I gave the order to the barista and told the jerk to wait for his drink. After a few minutes, the order was ready and I called it out. “Large latte for Stephen with a PhD.”

Dr Superior grabbed his drink, frowning at the lid in annoyance. “ _PhDeven?”_ came the outraged whisper.

I just threw him an evil grin and told him to have a nice day, before turning to the next customer.

*************************************

Surprisingly, Dr Jackass came in every day after that. Regular as clockwork. At precisely 8.45 every morning he would enter the café and order a large latte, extra shot, dash of cinnamon syrup. Without preamble, no small talk of any kind, and an absolute lack of anything resembling manners.

I might have considered him kind of attractive, in a silver fox sort of way, if he hadn’t been such an asshole every single time. He had salt-and-pepper hair, a goatee which I actually thought suited him, and blue eyes that looked as if they had seen far too much pain for one person to handle. If he had been a normal person, I probably would have offered him a hug. But given that he was Dr Horrible, I refrained from offering any niceties. He’d probably have me charged with sexual harassment if I laid a finger on him.

And he was always _so rude_. I was the only one that ever served him. None of the other staff wanted anything to do with him, and if they somehow _did_ end up standing in front of him, he refused to be served until I came over to take his order. He even insisted that I make his coffee for him, ignoring any of the other staff and staring at me resolutely, refusing to move an inch, until I had no choice but to acquiesce to his request.

Weird didn’t even begin to describe the guy.

“So what’s with the cape? Are you a magician?” I asked one day.

“I’m a Master of the Mystic Arts,” he replied shortly, as if that explained everything.  
  
“So… you’re a wizard?”  
  
“No.”

“Then why are you wearing a cape?” I persisted.  
  
“It’s not…” He gave me an incredulous look. “This is the Cloak of Levitation.” Well, _obviously._ How the hell had I not known that?  
  
The Cloak lifted a corner and _waved_ at me! Feeling only a little bit silly, I finger waved back, which seemed to delight it. The wizard, not so much.

When his drink was ready I called out, “Order for Gandalf!”

He glared at me, and I smiled sweetly at him. He muttered something under his breath as he stalked out of the café, while my workmates and some of the other regulars chuckled. I waved goodbye to the Cloak, which happily waved its own farewell before the door shut behind Doctor Grumpy McGrumpypants.

*************************************

From that moment on, every time Stephen with a PhD came in, his drink would be ready and waiting on the counter, and I would gleefully call out all sorts of incorrect, magically inspired nicknames in the hope that I would piss him off enough that he would finally go away for good.

“Large latte for Dumbledore!”

“Hot beverage for Merlin!”

“Coffee order for He Who Shall Not Be Named!”

“Drink for Ming the Merciless!”

Every single time, he would pick up his drink with a glare and a long-suffering sigh, muttering what was undoubtedly some sort of curse under his breath as he left.

It wasn’t enough to drive him away though. He kept returning, day after day, stubborn as a mule.

This went on for months. Teasing him was the absolute highlight of my day.

*************************************

My favourite customer once again stood in front of me, looking at me with what – on any other person – I would probably describe as fondness. Over the past few months, His Supreme Wizarding Imperialness seemed to have grown less exasperated, and slightly friendlier, towards myself. He continued to ignore everyone else that I worked with, but apparently I was now at least worthy of being acknowledged with a slight nod of the head and an even slighter smile.

I knew better, though. He was probably mentally turning me into a frog even as his blue eyes seemed to stare straight into my soul 

“Good morning, Blankie!” I swear the Cloak of Levitation _giggled_ at the nickname I’d given it. Stephen the Wizard muttered at it to behave, to which it responded by sulking. An inanimate object apparently had a larger emotional range than the man wearing it.

“So, will you be having your usual order today, Mr…?”

“Doctor,” he interrupted.  
  
“Mr Doctor?” I gave him a puzzled frown.  
  
“It’s Strange.”  
  
“Maybe. Who am I to judge?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, my _name_ is Strange.”  
  
“You’re not wrong.”

He looked at me helplessly. “ _No._ I mean, my name is Dr Stephen Strange. MD. PhD. Master of the Mystic Arts. Stonekeeper. Guardian of the New York Sanctum Sanctorum. Protector of this dimension, and countless others.”

He sounded like Danaerys Targaryen from _Game of Thrones_ listing off her numerous impressive titles. “Do you teach Defence Against the Dark Arts as well?”  
  
“Only on the third Saturday of each month,” he replied solemnly, although his blue eyes seemed to twinkle with suppressed mirth. I nearly choked on my breath. _Did he just make a joke?_  
  
“Wow. You manage to fit all of that on your business card?” I asked as I added the cinnamon syrup to his coffee.  
  
He gave a small smile. “It’s an extremely miniscule font.”

I handed him his drink. “It would probably fit better on a billboard.”  
  
“Undoubtedly.” He seemed to internally debate himself briefly, before grabbing my hand for a split second. Before I could register what he’d done, his hand was gone, wrapped instead around his coffee cup.

I felt something in my fingertips and looked down. It was a white card, with an address hand-written on it in a beautiful script. _Dr Stephen Strange. 177A Bleecker Street, New York City, New York._

I looked up in surprise to find Dr Strange smiling at me almost shyly. “Perhaps you would care to visit… the Cloak… one day when you are free. It seems fond of you.”  
  
I quirked an eyebrow. “Just the Cloak?”  
  
“Well, I’m sure Wong would also like to see you. Apparently he’s enamoured of your cinnamon scrolls."

I blinked. “You know Wong?” Wong has been one of my regular customers for years. I’m extremely fond of him. He has a sly sense of humour under that serious demeanour.

“We… work together. Who do you think recommended this place to me?”  
  
“Oh.” I paused briefly. “Well, I suppose… I’m free on Saturday afternoon if the… Cloak… would like to do something.”

“The Cloak looks forward to it.” Stephen sipped his drink and prepared to leave.

“Wait!” He turned around, one eyebrow raised. “Why me? What is it about _me_ that the Cloak likes so much?”  
  
He pondered for a moment. “He doesn’t find you as irritating as everybody else. He might even find you more than slightly amusing. He’d like to get to know you better.”

“You’re still talking about the Cloak, right?”  
  
Leaning across the counter, he pressed a brief kiss to my cheek. “Obviously.”

He threw a wink at me before exiting, leaving me staring after him incredulously, my hand pressed to my cheek where he’d kissed me. _Dr Strange had just KISSED me!_

Huh. Maybe he’s not a complete asshole after all.


End file.
